House for sale
sold already
pile of old bookshelves
free
in the lane
the previous owner
sorting through the garage
the final nest
of belongings
(a spider’s paradise)
he looks as though
he is always dusty
and my husband asks him a question
that lands us in the house
for an enthusiastic tour of
empty
rotting
rooms
a tear-down, he says
not sadly
oddly proud
of the tired sag of the walls
stained ceiling
crusty stove
as though he doesn’t see
an old house
but the wife
he met 40 years ago
gone now
and all he can smell
in the decay
is a memory of
fresh
honey
skin.
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